War Is Hell
by lady leonid
Summary: Just a silly little tale of what happens when Colby's remarks to a certain professor get a bit out of hand. War is declared, sides taken and Don is lucky to be out of it. Some are not so lucky. Hope you enjoy and get a bit of a laugh anyway


Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

War Is Hell

Chapter One

It had begun innocently enough, an offhand remark made in a dive bar known as 'Lou's Place' late one chilly fall night after a particularly frustrating case had ended rather ambiguously. Neither side had won. The thief in question had used stolen credit cards, driver's licenses, social security numbers and banking information to set up several bogus accounts. He then proceeded to use his ill gotten gains to purchase such items as professional recording equipment, musical instruments, video equipment, computers and he had paid six months' rent on a warehouse. The driving motivation for his larcenous actions in acquiring this odd assortment of items; to start a Christian rock recording studio so he could better spread the 'word' to young people through music, in particular, his band's music.

Charlie Eppes had listened to a demo the FBI confiscated from the illicit studio. The man was delusional! That saccharin, poorly executed, poorly played, poorly written, drivel was bad enough to drive the Pope to renounce his faith and take up Nordic Black Metal. At least Black Metal had some merit. Much of it had its base in legend and myth and the music its self was excellent. At least that was Charlie's excuse for indulging occasionally, usually through earphones, usually in his garage, usually accompanied by his father's shouts of:

"You're going to go deaf if you don't turn that down!"

The affluent couple who had, over six months time, been robbed of at least one hundred thousand dollars of hard earned cash was very grateful to the Bureau for solving the crime, grateful that is until they discovered the 'low life thief' was their own little angel. It was at that point that the case fell apart. Baby Boy produced a few well timed cries of 'I'm sorry!' accompanied by abundant crocodile tears.

The team found the fact that the parents blamed themselves for the crime, not the thieving kid, both disgusting and disquieting. Charlie just shrugged. He dealt with parents all the time. Nothing surprised him. Some were convinced their darling was the next Einstein and blamed him, the teacher, for their failure.

Some were so called helicopter parents who just couldn't let go, even though the 'kid' was really a young adult and not a child. Again, any failure was his fault and not little, six foot, two hundred pound Timmy's, whose main interest was beer bongs and coeds, not such boring subjects as math and science.

So, in the end junior would be bailed out by his loving parents. He would be punished for his crime by going home to a nice dinner and a few more months of therapy. All would be forgiven. He would even get to keep his studio and his parents promised to be more supportive in the future. The DA could try and prosecute, but in all likelihood, without the parents pressing charges and testifying against the kid, the case would more than likely be kicked out.

After the family left, Charlie had waved his finger in big brother Don's face, "Never call me spoiled again!" He declared.

Yes, it had all began innocently enough with an offhand remark blurted out by Granger somewhere around the fourth round. Maybe they would not have wasted two weeks of everyone's time on the idiot case, if their mathematician had worked a bit faster, he had stated, ordering yet another round. Perhaps the team could have wrapped it up in half the time without all the scribbles and equations. The team, after all had solved many crimes without the aid of a PhD.

Perhaps it was the phase of the moon or the positions of the planets, or the fact that Don Eppes, the voice of reason, had gone home early on that fateful night, leaving his brother and the team to their own devices. No one would ever know for sure. But, for whatever reason, a simple remark, that at any other time would have caused a minor protest from Charlie and then would have been laughed off, became a challenge.

"Oh, really?" Charlie had leaned across David to get in Colby's face, "Are you saying you are smarter than me?"

"I'm saying we solved crimes just fine before you added your voodoo." Colby insisted.

"Well, Granger, perhaps we can put my voodoo against your FBI skills with a little test? Are you up for a bit of gaming?" Charlie fairly rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"You mean like D&D? I'm not fourteen and it's not 1980." Colby snorted.

"No, Granger, I'm not talking about D&D. I'm talking about something a bit more intense and grownup. You guys are always saying I do not know how to have fun, well how about you entering my world and having a little geek fun; how about a variation on an LARP?"

"A what," David asked, sounding completely confused, "why do you people have to say everything with initials?"

"A live action roll playing game," Charlie explained. "Except, no fantasy realms or treasure, we will just play as ourselves and we'll play the game like chess. One team makes a move then the other gets to make a counter move. We'll have a moderator and a committee to decide who wins each level."

"And what is the purpose of this game?" Colby asked.

"Well, whoever wins proves their point. If you win old FBI methods and street knowledge rule and if we win, math and science rule."

"What else do we win?" Colby asked.

"If each team member pays let's say one hundred dollars per level to play and we have five levels, then at the end of the game, the winning team donates the pot to a charity of its choice. I belong to a group that supports St. John Maron's School of Science and Mathematics in South Central. We pay the tuition for deserving kids. We also run weekend programs to help keep some of the kids off the street. I'll donate the money to that."

"There is that program for kids affected by street violence and drugs at the Mission downtown." David said. "We could donate the money to that."

"So, are we on?" Charlie asked, his eyes sparkling.

"No ringers, Eppes, I remember how you and Fleinhardt won that basket ball game." David interjected.

"No one with an IQ under 150, I promise and you cannot have anyone with an IQ over…"

"EPPES!" David said, the warning obvious in his voice.

"Sorry, just kidding!" he grinned at Granger, "Are we on?"

"I don't know…" Granger started to say.

"Oh, what is it? Is the big G Man afraid of a little math professor and his geek squad?"

Colby Granger slammed his beer bottle on the table, "Professor, we are so on!"

The gauntlet had been thrown down and the events that followed and the people involved would become legends of almost mystical proportions among the patrons of Lou's and in fact, several similar watering holes along that dingy street. Sides would be taken, tee shirts made and fan clubs formed.

The soon to be warriors met the next night at Lou's, which officially became headquarters, to decide how the game was to be played. They agreed unanimously on four things; each team would consist of three people; no team member could do anything to cause physical harm to an opponent or damage property; no team member could do anything to threaten an opponent's job security; once a team made a move, the opposing team had forty-eight hours to make a counter move. If they did not, the level was forfeit: and DON EPPES WAS TO KNOW NOTHING ABOUT THE GAME, EVER!

Colby Granger and David Sinclair teamed up of course. Neither Nikki nor Liz was interested so they quickly drafted that new guy who sits at the front desk and eyes Don's ass as he walked by, due to his superior knowledge of computers and gaming. Team Law Dog was formed.

Charlie had a tougher time building his forces. Everyone at Lou's that night had been FBI, so their allegiances were obvious. He finally asked one of his T.A.'s., Mark Griffin. He was intelligent, enjoyed a good game and was old enough. Charlie insisted no one on his team could be under the age of twenty-one. He thought of Larry, but Fleinhardt had been recruited as mediator since everyone agreed that he would be fair to both sides. For a while it looked like his team would be a man short when Mark suggested his girlfriend, Lisa Freeman. She was getting her PhD in Astrophysics and Larry highly recommended her. Charlie met her, liked her and Team GeekMathematica was complete.

Both teams met at Lou's on a Thursday night the following week. Team Law Dog wore olive green shirts, black pants and baseball hats emblazoned with their team name. Team GeekMathematica wore black tee shirts emblazoned with their team name and a picture of Isaac Newton holding an Apple Laptop. They thought about military style berets, but Charlie decided it made him look a little like Che Guevara, so they all agreed no hats were needed.

Colby Granger and Charlie Eppes, as team leaders each drew straws. Team Law Dog won. The first move was theirs. Everyone shook hands and went to their mutual corners and what was to become known as the Eppes/Granger Conflict officially began and Charlie quickly discovered what a sick bastard Granger could be.

* * *

Charlie Eppes, his father Alan, his elderly Aunt Irene and her friend, Maude were enjoying a rather formal dinner at one of L.A.'s better establishments. Charlie had tried every way he could think of to get out of it, but his father would not relent. His late mother's Aunt had been looking forward to spending an evening with poor Margret's dear boy, Charlie. She wanted to show him off to her friend, who was always bragging about her own sons, the doctor and the lawyer, and the grandchildren who were all in either Harvard or Yale.

Aunt Irene wanted to boast about her genius nephew who was a college professor and had written a published book and was famous. In the end, since he had been raised to respect his elders, Charlie gave in, but not before he called Don and let him know how much he did not appreciate the FBI agent leaving him to face the elderly lady alone and he didn't care about or want to hear about any stakeouts. As far as Charlie was concerned, that was just an excuse.

His aunt was a very proper lady and she loved her nephews but, of course, Aunt Irene being Aunt Irene, she just had to get her digs in. She wondered about his hair, did he loose his brush? Did he loose his razor or just forget to shave? Had he lost weight? His clothes were a tad baggy. She wondered why he was not dating anyone at the moment. Didn't he realize he was not a spring chicken and that he needed to get moving to give dear Alan the grandchildren he so richly deserved? Charlie had looked at his father for support, but the coward kept his eyes on his plate.

Charlie was close to forgetting all his parents had taught him about respect. If his aunt did not back off, he was either going to tell her to shut up or find a reason to leave. Since he was all too aware of the consequences if he told the old lady off, and it was not his nature to do so anyway, he decided he was about to come down with a migraine and call a cab. Before he got a chance to put his scheme into motion, a young man about twenty years old walked by and leaned over the table.

"Hello, Charlie, you look very nice tonight." he said and moved on.

Charlie knew he must have met that guy somewhere but he couldn't remember. He didn't think he had met him at the university, but maybe he had. Less than five minute later, an equally young, well dressed man walked by from the other direction. He also stopped and leaned over the table. "You really look good tonight, Charlie. Maybe you can wear that shirt this weekend. It really looks hot on you and make sure you wear that cologne. I really like it."

Charlie froze. Before he had a chance to swear to his family that he had never seen those men before, it happened again and then again, each time a little more flagrant, a little more flamboyant. Finally, the last of his tormentors walked by and handed him a business card, telling him that someone named Greg was expecting a call on Saturday night.

Charlie knew there had to be an explanation for all of this. He was completely sure he had never met any of those men in his life and he was equally sure he did not have a date with a Greg on Saturday night! His eyes scanned the room and there, at a table near the patio sat Team Law Dog. Granger held up a glass of wine in a toast. The first volley had been fired and he had taken a major hit. Charlie scowled and looked daggers at his opponent. _'Oh, it's on Granger_!' he thought, _'It's so on_!'

"Well, Irene dear, there's your explanation as to why he's not married. The young man simply prefers fishing from a different pier than you thought." Her eyes were absolutely gleeful. She would have some really hot gossip about Irene's genius nephew.

"I swear this is some kind of joke! I'm not…" But as he looked from his stunned great aunt to his flabbergasted father, he knew if he kept protesting, he would make the situation worse. He finished the rest of his meal in silence, cursing Granger and swearing swift reprisal.

* * *

Less than two days later Charlie Eppes found himself sitting in Don's cubical, humming softly to himself and smiling innocently at David, Colby and that guy at the front desk. He had waved at them as he entered the room. They looked worried and rightfully so. Team GeekMathematica had nothing planned as blatantly crass as the move Team Law Dog had pulled on him. Still, he was confident their counter move would leave a mark the enemy would long remember. His team had spent hours brainstorming and researching and soon until they came with something really different. Soon he would send the signal and they would execute their scheme. All he had to do was to wait until the optimal moment. Timing was everything.

"Hey Buddy, I wasn't expecting you," Don said as he shrugged into his well worn chair.

"I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd drop by and say hi," Charlie said, keeping his eye on the clock, "So— HI!" He said smiling.

Don looked at him oddly and shook his head. Then he brought up a subject that had been bugging him for two days. "Ahh, Charlie, I received calls from Aunt Irene and Dad."

"Oh shit," Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Little bother, you know you can tell me anything. I mean if you want to come out of any enclosed spaces, we'll all still love you no matter what." Don said grinning.

"Don, someone was playing a really nasty joke on me. I swear I have nothing 'special' to tell you, Dad or anyone else!" Charlie glanced at the clock again.

Don laughed, "I know, but you have to admit it's hilarious. Aunt Irene is not going to look at you in the same way again."

"Hey, at least she'll stop asking me when I'm getting married." Charlie cocked his head to the side, "In fact, I wouldn't doubt it if she concentrated all her attention on you, Don, dear."

"Oh god, I didn't think of that." Don cringed.

Charlie chuckled. Every cloud has a silver lining. He glanced at the clock again. His heartbeat quickened. The whole thing depended on technology not letting him down. It was go time. He took his cell out of pocket and punched in some numbers. A short while later three cell phones rang. A picture of Newton with the Apple laptop appeared on their screens with the words: _A message from your worthy opponents_:

He saw three pairs of eyes turn towards him.

Charlie was causally glancing at his phone since he was receiving the same message as his enemy.

_'Have any of you ever noticed that when my brother is concentrating or lifts his head to make a point, or is pissed, he looks like Rocket Dog from Meerkat Manor? Need proof?'_

And then one by one, the words, _It's a Bird! It's a plane! No! It's Rocket Don_! Suddenly a picture appeared of the team dressed in their FBI best in the back ground, but dominating the picture, in all his splendid glory was Rocket Don, a meerkat, who thanks to Photoshop, was dressed in a little flak jacket with FBI cross the front, a little baseball hat with R.D. across the top, a tiny coffee cup in his hand and a cape flapping in the wind as the theme from Super Man blared in the background. If you looked closely you could see the little mouth chewing gum.

Three people either spit their coffee on their monitors or started laughing so hard they had to pretend they were choking and leave the room. The bullpen had gone silent as confused eyes watched and Granger's last words as he dashed from his desk, spilled coffee staining his shirt, hung in the air.

"I'm going to kill that curly haired little son of a bitch!"

Don only looked confused. Charlie laughed softly to himself. "I think my work here is done." he said, "You coming by tonight for dinner?" He asked as he slipped his phone back in his pocket and stood up.

"Yeah, Dad asked me." He was still staring out at the bullpen. "Charlie, do know what that was all about?"

"I've no idea! Maybe it was bad coffee. You guys really need to wash the pot on occasion." He grinned, "See you at home."

Later that night, as he helped his father clear the table after dinner and Don had settled down in front of the television with a beer to watch one ball game or another, he received a message from the Mediator. After the video evidence of both moves had been examined by the committee, the votes were in; based on originality and the fact that Team Law Dog had only taken out the team leader while Team GeekMathematica had hit the team in its entirety:

_Team GeekMathematica Levels UP. Better luck next time, Team Law Dog. _

The End


End file.
